Murder your perfection.
Assume genius in your scars.
Let the broken parts of yourself fall off instead of making them pretty.
Evolve into a messed up being of formlessness.
Be a relentless kind of chaos.

Because hope is both a purpose to live and a purpose to let go, like how ocean water says hello to the shore breaking it and scattering its pieces only for it to say goodbye and return to its peace.

Leaving behind a formless beautiful only to the eyes of a few.

Clue

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